


Only Fools Rush In

by daunt, rosewindow



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Full Shift Scott, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 01:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1920927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daunt/pseuds/daunt, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewindow/pseuds/rosewindow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Pros to taking Stiles to the Werewolf Wedding: One, I’m non-supernatural, but I know about supernatural things. Two, I own a suit. Three, I look good in said suit."</p><p>Scott and Stiles attend a werewolf gathering and think they can totally play at being boyfriends, no problem. But Scott already has a bit of a crush on his best friend, and lets his protectiveness get the better of him, putting them in a tough situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Fools Rush In

**Author's Note:**

> Much love and thanks to Daunt for her amazing art and her encouragement as I wrote this. Thanks to the Sciles Reversebang mods for doing such a great job and being super enthusiastic. Thanks to my amazing beta Boxoftheskyking for her perceptive eye and for sharing my feelings about Wolf Scott the Alpha Messiah.
> 
> Enjoy!

The invitation is the fanciest thing Scott’s ever seen; there are three envelopes before he even gets to the actual content. The outermost one is addressed to Mr. Scott Howard McCall. The next one is addressed and sealed the same way, though this time his title is Alpha. The next envelope has his name only, and this one is unsealed. Inside that, on delicate silver paper affixed to royal blue cardstock, is the invitation itself. There’s also yet another envelope with a light blue RSVP card inside.

Once Scott has skimmed the invitation, it’s the RSVP card that catches his interest. It’s partially filled out in the same neat calligraphy as the rest of the letter:

> Scott H. McCall and Date (named below)
> 
> __________________________
> 
> _____ Accept with pleasure
> 
> _____ Decline with regret

Huh.

He snaps a picture and sends it to Stiles with a string of question marks as the caption.

Stiles responds, **Are you asking me out? ;)**

Scott blanches. He’s trying to think of the safest, friendliest way to respond to that when his phone buzzes again.

**Who invited you to a wedding?**

**A friend from college** , he texts back. **Well, acquaintance. I met him twice.**

**Weird. He’s a wolf?**

**Yep.**

**:D You’re going to a Werewolf Wedding!**

Scott rolls his eyes and slips his phone back into his pocket. After a moment, he pulls it back out and dials one of his emergency contacts. This counts, he decides, as Derek answers the phone.

“They’re pretty influential Packs. The Crawfords have Packs on both sides of the country,” Derek says, examining the envelope. “This is clearly a power play. Inviting a True Alpha to their event, just to show off to the extended families.”

“Okay, well then I’ll just politely refuse-”

“You’ll have to go.”

“What?” Scott gasps.

“There’s no way to politely refuse this. It would be the height of rudeness, not to mention look really bad if you ever need to have dealings with any of the Packs that are invited. Especially since you know the groom.”

“Barely,” Scott protests.

Derek shrugs and passes the invitation back. “And you’ll definitely need a date.”

This is getting better and better.

“Why?”

“Partly because they’ve invited you to bring one, and partly because you really don’t want to go to this alone. I can only imagine how desperately everyone will try to set you up with one of their children.”

Scott shudders. “Alright. I’ll bring a date, but I have no idea who I could bring.”

He can’t ask Allison or Kira, because even though they’d probably say yes, having a hunter or a kitsune at a werewolf function is asking for trouble. Lydia laughs at him when he asks and Malia gives a resounding, “No.” And that’s pretty much all of Scott’s female friends. He should work on that. He’s got a few friends from college who he might consider, but they’re mostly human, and he’s known them less than a year, so he probably shouldn’t invite them to a wedding.

Scott is considering giving up and going alone, when Stiles presents a solution.

“Take me, dude.”

“Haha. I need an actual date, Stiles.”

“I’ll be your actual date for the weekend. Come on, it’s a good idea.”

“I don’t know…” Scott hedges.

“Pros to taking Stiles to the Werewolf Wedding: One, I’m non-supernatural, but I know about supernatural things. Two, I own a suit. Three, I look good in said suit. Four, research. Come on, Scott. How often am I going to get to see a bunch of werewolves all together?” Stiles does his best puppy dog face.

Scott shoves him. “Cons: we’re not actually dating and the werewolves are going to figure it out, especially when you start interrogating them. Which might cause more trouble than going alone would.”

Stiles scoffs. “Whatever, Scotty. I can be charming and discreet.”

Scott snorts.

“You know I can. Plus, it’ll be great. It’ll be a best bros vacation. A bro-cation, if you will.”

“A bro-cation where we pretend to be dating,” Scott points out.

“Right. How do we even do that?”

Scott shrugs. “Know everything about each other? Have inside jokes? Lots of PDA?” he finishes wistfully.

“We just need to add PDA then, don’t we?” Stiles chuckles. “This’ll be fun!”

That’s one word for it, Scott thinks darkly. Because there’s one other major Con to Stiles coming along and pretending to be his boyfriend, one that Scott can’t tell anyone - though he suspects Derek knows and feels super awkward about it.

The full impact of that Con hits him a few weeks later as they’re hanging their suits together in the garment bag.

“Looking good,” Stiles laughs, zipping the bag up. “We are definitely going to be the cutest couple there.”

And there’s the problem right there, isn’t it? They’re going to spend a whole four days pretending to be a couple, when Scott wants nothing more than to actually be dating Stiles.

It has been building for, well, probably for their whole lives, but in the last two years it has really started to become a problem. Because as much as Scott wants to fall asleep and wake up with Stiles tangled around him, or hold hands while they wait for the bus, or kiss long and slow just because they can, he can’t risk their friendship. He loves Stiles, loves him wholly and unconditionally, and he knows Stiles feels the same, and it’s not fair of him to complicate that with his romantic feelings.

So the thought of getting a brief taste of what he wants and then going back to pretending his feelings are strictly platonic and philial is painful.

“Totally,” he says, with a smile that he hopes reaches his eyes.

Scott thinks Derek is entirely too amused by this whole situation. He’s lounging in the armchair - completely unnecessarily - and smirking as Scott rolls pants. It had been Derek’s suggestion that they pack their clothes together so they smelled more alike, and Stiles had somehow finagled Scott into packing for them. Well, not exactly ‘somehow,’ he’d done it by the careful application of doe eyes and begging. Scott is weak, okay? So now he’s packing their clothes into one suitcase like a proper couple and ignoring Derek.

“You know, you could have asked me,” Derek says, as Scott is folding one of Stiles’s plaid shirts.

Scott thinks about this statement as he starts rolling the shirt which - upon further inspection - turns out to be his. He’d wondered where that went. “I could’ve,” he says. “But Stiles and I have history, and the distinction of actually having kissed. Plus, do you really want to go to this wedding?”

Derek shakes his head emphatically.

“Point.” Scott finishes rolling the shirts and looks at the pile of socks. “Stiles can not need this many socks. I’m pretty sure he’s just using me for laundry purposes.”

Scott feels Derek’s mood change.

“Just so long as he’s not using you for real.”

Scott grins. “Aww, Derek. You do care.”

“I’m serious, Scott. I know-” he huffs. “I know you like him. Don’t let him, take advantage of that.”

Scott sighs and sits on the edge of the bed, an undershirt in his hands. “He won’t. He doesn’t- I mean, do you think he would come along if he knew?”

“Yes. Because he’s your best friend, and you should tell him.”

“He’s my best friend so I can’t tell him.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “I know I don’t have the best track record with things like this, but I can see what you two have, and if you’re worried about ruining the friendship or whatever, don’t. You two have survived worse than a crush.”

Scott knows Derek’s just trying to help, and his Beta wouldn’t give him bad advice, but it’s advice that Scott’s not ready to take right now.

The silence stretches out until Derek sighs and leans forward to start folding socks.

Derek drives them to the airport, and helps them unload. “Behave,” he says sternly, flicking Stiles in the shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Buzzkill. No international incidents this time, I promise.”

He heads off into the terminal, but Derek holds Scott back. “You too. Remember what I told you.”

“Don’t worry about me, Derek,” Scott smiles.

“Oh, I will.” Derek waves goodbye, and Scott catches up with Stiles at the security checkpoint.

Stiles always gets more distracted than normal in airports, so Scott guards their bags while Stiles runs off on various errands. It’s an old habit, though when they were younger usually one of their parents would be home base while Scott got dragged along after Stiles. Scott smiles fondly at the memory and at the sight of Stiles returning with a water bottle.

Stiles hands him the bottle and drops a kiss on his forehead. Scott leans up without thinking to kiss him back.

“Oh good,” Stiles says, “I was gonna say we should start now.”

“Start?”

“You know. The boyfriends thing.”

“Oh.” Scott’s heart sinks. “Right.”

He’d forgotten for a moment about the fake dating, hadn’t even seen the gesture as one that would be romantic. He and Stiles have been so tied up in each other for so long, that Scott honestly doesn’t remember where their boundaries are sometimes.

“I’m excited about the wedding,” Stiles grins, dropping into the seat next to Scott and swinging his legs up across Scott’s lap. “I bet they have an open bar.”

Scott laughs dutifully, and drapes a hand casually over Stiles’s knee. He reminds himself again that this is temporary, but he can’t help the part of him that feels so smug at Stiles’s display of affection.

“Do we need to come up with a story?” Stiles asks, idly tapping out a beat on his thigh.

“A story?” Scott asks.

“Yeah, like, how we met, our first kiss, when we made it official, stuff like that.”

Scott hesitates. “Well, we have to stick mostly to the truth. Werewolves will be able to detect a lie.”

“So preschool, age twelve, and a few months ago. That works.”

“Surprisingly well,” Scott says softly, brushing his fingers against Stiles’s.

Stiles smiles at him - not one of his genuine smiles, but a happy one that’s still rare enough to be a marvel - and leans forward to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad you let me come with you.”

“Anytime,” Scott says, shakily.

His skin burns where Stiles kissed him, and this weekend is either going to be the best few days of his life or kill him.

Stiles takes the aisle on the flight and then promptly falls asleep, trapping Scott in his window seat. His hand has dropped onto Scott’s lap, and Scott idly twines their fingers together. The flight attendant smiles as she comes by with the drink cart.

“You’re a lucky guy,” she says. “Your boyfriend’s very cute.”

“Oh, he’s- uh, thanks.”

She nods and moves on, and Scott looks down at their joined hands. He turns Stiles’s hand over, tracing his thumb down his long fingers and listening to the slow beat of his heart. Stiles smells so much like him, both from their prep work and just from the fact that they spend pretty much all their time together. Less, now that they’re in college and not taking the same classes, but still. He evokes the same settled feeling that the rest of his unconventional Pack does, but it runs deeper. Stiles is a part of him, the way people you love are.

Scott leans his head against Stiles’s and adjusts his breathing so the two of them are in sync. Then he drifts off to sleep.

There’s a chauffeur waiting for them at the arrivals gate. He’s got a sign that says ‘McCall’ and everything. Stiles immediately claims the sign as his own. There are several other people in the shuttle, all going up to the resort as well.

Stiles watches the city and the slowly looming mountains for a while, but then he leans back against Scott’s shoulder and starts snoring gently. The woman in the front seat of the shuttle turns and smiles at the two of them.

“That’s sweet. Have you come a long way?”

“California.”

She looks at him more sharply. “You’re Alpha Scott McCall, aren’t you.”

He nods, a little wary.

“Alpha Joan Crawford, of the Poconos Pack.” She offers her hand to shake and Scott manages to do so without disturbing Stiles. She nods towards him. “A human partner, that’s very interesting. I won’t deny, a lot of us were hoping you would come alone and unattached. Especially the younger wolves.”

Scott laughs awkwardly. “Sorry to let them down.”

“Oh well. Still, a human partner,” she shakes her head.

Scott suddenly doesn’t want to talk to her anymore. “It could be worse,” he says, keeping his tone as even as possible, “I used to date an Argent.”

She blinks at him sharply, bristling with surprise and aggression before she laughs and turns back to the front.

Scott has the sudden and distinct impression that he’s passed a test. Equally clearly he realizes that it won’t be the last one.

“Dude! This is _nice_!” Stiles smirks back at him. “It’s good to be the Alpha.”

Scott follows him into their suite. It is indeed nice. A kitchenette and seating area flank the entrance, and then the room opens up into a spacious bedroom dominated by a king size bed. Scott is suddenly extremely conscious of the fact that the hostess pointed out the room’s soundproofing.

“I can, uh, I can take the couch,” Scott says, hesitating in the entry.

“Don’t be silly,” Stiles scoffs. “The bed’s huge. Anyway, don’t want people to think there’s trouble in paradise. Are you worried about your virtue, Scotty?”

“Bit late for that,” Scott has to laugh and Stiles joins in.

“This weekend’s going to be awesome, man.”

Stiles is probably right, but significantly detracting from the awesomeness quotient is the fact that it is beyond awkward attending a wedding where you hardly know anyone. Scott has to keep telling himself that this is actually a good thing, because no one will be able to mess up their story.

At least he has Stiles, and proper werewolf beer.

“I’m gonna get a drink. Do you need anything?”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks, sweetie.”

Scott almost makes a crack about the pet name, but remembers himself just in time. This fake dating thing is trickier than it looks.

“Scott, hey! So glad you could make it!” Patrick extracts himself from a knot of well-wishers and comes over to give Scott a hug.

“Thanks for inviting me. And congratulations!”

Patrick grins broadly and clinks their beer bottles together. “What about you? Last I heard you were seeing that med student.”

“Med student? Hey, I’m Stiles.”

Where did Stiles come from?

“It’s good to meet you,” Patrick says, looking between him and Scott for an explanation.

“Yeah, that didn’t last. This is Stiles; my, boyfriend.” Scott knows his heart stuttered, but there’s nothing he can do about that except hope people aren’t paying attention.

Patrick notices. “No need to be nervous,” he chuckles. “The way you talked about Stiles, I kind of figured there was more between you two. Especially after you told me you were bi.”

Scott had entirely forgotten that he’d had that conversation with Patrick, which is unfortunate since he hasn’t yet had that conversation with Stiles. Stiles knows though. At least, he’s pretty sure Stiles knows.

Whatever Stiles is thinking, he hides it well. “I hope Scott lied through his teeth and only said good things about me,” he laughs.

“He only said good things,” Patrick assures him, “and you can’t lie to a werewolf.”

“Don’t I know it,” Stiles teases, winking and elbowing Scott in the ribs.

Patrick laughs and claps Stiles on the shoulder. “I like you. I like him, Scott. I’m glad you got your act together and asked him out. You guys have a good weekend, okay?”

Well that’s confusing, but promising, Scott thinks as they get sucked into a conversation happening on the couch. Scott has honestly been expecting interrogations, for everyone to demand to know how they got together, or their anniversary, or where they went on their first date, but they’ve been accepted as a couple so easily that it makes Scott dangerously hopeful about their relationship after this weekend. Is it possible that Stiles actually likes him?

Scott’s leg brushes Stiles’s, and he pauses in his telling of The Peryton Problem to smile and place a hand on Scott’s knee. It’s so natural to squeeze Stiles’s hand back, and then he leaves their hands there. Stiles steals his hand back a moment later of course - someday Scott is going to test his theory that if you held Stiles’s hands still he wouldn’t be able to talk - but he gives Scott a final squeeze and another smile before going back into his story.

Someone coos next to him. “You are adorable. How long have you two been together?”

Scott blinks nervously, but he’s ready for this. “We’ve been friends since we were four, and we’ve been dating for a few months.”

The girl - Willow, one of the bride’s endless cousins, if Scott is remembering right - coos again. “That’s adorable. Patrick and Lindsay have known each other a long time too. Their brothers were friends, so they had to hang out at the playground together.”  
“Scott and I met on the playground too,” Stiles says, suddenly leaning into Scott’s space and slinging an arm around his shoulder. “In the sandbox. I think you were building a castle?”

“Yeah,” Scott laughs, “Which you then peed on.”

Stiles splutters indignantly, and Scott soothes him with a quick peck.

“After that I figured we would either be mortal enemies or together forever.”

It’s a little closer to the truth than Scott had been aiming for, but whatever. He and Stiles are supposed to be dating, this is his chance to be sappy.

“And when did you find out he was a werewolf?” she asks. “It’s so hard to know. I wanted to tell my best friend growing up, but my parents wouldn’t let me. Isn’t that right, Alec?”

The man perched on the coffee table turns to look at them. “Yeah. That was the rule in our house. No humans can know unless not knowing directly impacts their safety or wellbeing.”

Scott and Stiles look at each other. “Uh…”

“I was bitten,” Scott starts slowly, “In our sophomore year of high school. Stiles actually figured it out before I did.”

The siblings look surprised.

“Your Alpha didn’t tell you what they were doing? They didn’t stick around to help you through it?” Willow asks shocked.

Alec looks surprised too, and he swivels his whole body so he can focus on the conversation.

Stiles snorts. “He stuck around for too long, despite multiple attempts on his life.”

Scott swats at him, but Stiles catches his hand and kisses it. “What? You know it’s true.”

“Yeah. Luckily you stuck around too.”

“But you’re an Alpha. They only come from established Packs.”

“He’s a True Alpha,” Stiles points out proudly.

Alec frowns slightly, wrinkling his thick brow. “How is that possible?”

This is the awkwardness he should have prepared for, Scott thinks, as Stiles launches into what he calls Scott’s origin story - despite Scott’s emphatic protests. He knows True Alphas are rare, and bitten ones even more so. Derek said that his invitation was a power play, showing off that they were personal friends of currently the only True Alpha in the United States, he should have expected people to want to talk about it and, by extension, him.

Alec is one of the groomsmen, even though he’s a Beta from the bride’s Pack. He’s a few years older than them, has just gotten his degree in Political Science and International Studies, and is headed to George Washington in the fall to get a Masters in Criminology. He’s been researching Pack hierarchies and variations from the norm as a side project. Stiles clearly thinks he’s awesome. Scott thinks he’s a prick.

“Okay, but you must have had a real wolf helping you. Non-traditional Packs rarely survive, let alone thrive.”

“Derek Hale is one of my Betas,” Scott says.

“Huh,” Alec rubs at his beard. “Well you are a puzzle, aren’t you, Scott McCall.”

The party is starting to wind down, and another of the groomsmen comes over to them. “Hey, Alec, we’re gonna go start the bachelor party festivities now. You ready?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there. You gentlemen want to come?”

Scott and Stiles look at each other. Scott raises an eyebrow and brushes their fingers together, and Stiles wrinkles his nose the tiniest bit, his eyes tired. Scott looks back at Alec, “I think we might call it a night. It’s been a long day.”

“Suit yourself. See you tomorrow; everybody’s going on a hike up the mountain.”

“See you then. Come on, Scott, I want to try out that bed.”

Scott blushes bright red, and hustles them out of there as fast as he can.

“So,” Stiles starts, undoing his shirt buttons. “Bi?”

Scott winces. “Yeah? At least, I think. I’m still figuring it all out, you know? But, that definition seems to fit the best.”

He knows Stiles isn’t going to hate him forever about his sexuality, but he feels a little guilty he hasn’t at least mentioned it to him. Especially since Stiles told him everything during ‘Wait, you can like both?-gate’ of Junior year.

“You should have told me earlier-”

Scott tenses for a well-deserved reprimand, but Stiles continues, “My roommate had such a crush on you. I had to tell him it was hopeless, but I think he thought I was just trying to keep you to myself.”

Scott’s heart leaps, and Stiles laughs.

He tosses his shirt onto their suitcase and goes to brush his teeth. Scott tries not to stare at the muscles of his back as he walks away.

He finds boxers and a tshirt and changes into them quickly; a middle school locker room change, where parts are hidden as much as possible and his back is deliberately turned. When he turns around, Stiles is shirtless, with his pants undone and hanging loose on his hips, and that’s just not fair. He’s lounging against the bathroom door and gesturing with his toothbrush.

“Mind you, he wasn’t good enough for you.”

Stiles grins, and turns to spit in the sink.

“Bathroom’s all yours, Scotty.”

When Scott gets done, Stiles is lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Everything alright?”

Stiles startles. “Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m good. Just thinking, I would have felt less guilty dragging you to Jungle if I’d known you were into guys too. No wonder you always accepted those drinks.”

Scott hits the lights and slides into bed. “Nah, I was just being polite. No one at Jungle ever caught my eye.”

“Who did then?” Stiles asks, rolling over to face him.

Stiles’s bedside light is still on, so his face is mostly in shadow, but the halo of light falls on the curve of his cheek and lights his face enough that Scott can see the look of apprehension on his face. He’s not sure what that means.

“I was mostly focused on the Pack, you know,” he evades.

“Oh. Okay.”

Scott waits for Stiles to say something else, but nothing more seems to be forthcoming.

“Goodnight then,” he says.

“Goodnight.”

Stiles turns over to turn off his light, and stays on his left side. Scott falls asleep a little while later, eyes locked on the rise and fall of Stiles’s shoulders.

It’s billed as a hike, but with a bunch of werewolves around, Scott suspects it will be a bit more intense. Stiles insists on going, despite Scott’s protests. “If you’ve gotta go, I’m going with you. Besides, I’ve kept up with werewolves before.”

The group gathers at the base of the mountain. Stiles has their ski lift tickets and is ridiculously excited about that. The lift is running, but it’s not getting much use. Scott notices a few derisive looks cast in his direction, although most of them stop when they realize Scott is with a human.

“See you at the top!” Patrick shouts, before starting up the steep slope at an easy lope.

Stiles looks slightly less than thrilled about the ski lift now, so Scott takes his hand and heads towards the chairs with purpose. They stand at the ready, and the chair slows enough for them to hop on.

As soon as they’re on, Stiles’s enthusiasm returns. He kicks his feet wildly, and hoots as they get farther and farther from the ground. His hands remain locked around the safety bar, and Scott reaches over and puts his own over Stiles’s. Stiles’s returning grin is infectious.

The lift crosses over one of the trails below, and they catch sight of a few of the Pack members down below. One of the younger kids howls up at them, and Scott can’t resist howling back. They keep catching glimpses of the other werewolves through the pines and aspens as they make their way up the slope, but it’s pretty much just them, which is very nice. Scott suddenly wishes that they weren’t here for some sort of werewolf political move, but were just on vacation, the two of them.

That illusion is shattered by Alec waiting for them at the top of the lift. “Have a nice ride, gentlemen?” he asks with a grin.

The rest of the hodgepodge Pack is waiting for them at the tree line. A few of the wolves that Scott met last night say hello, and Patrick’s father nods at him respectfully. It’s strange being around other werewolves like this and having people submit to him. Even the other Alphas like Patrick’s dad Terrence have been deferential, despite the fact that he’s technically the lowest ranking Alpha here.

“Scott!” Patrick says from up ahead. “Are you running with us?”

Scott looks over at Stiles, who nods. “Go for it. I’ll bring up the rear.”

“I’ll keep him company,” Alec offers.

“If you’re sure…”

Stiles makes a shooing motion at him. Scott leans in on impulse and kisses Stiles on the lips and then the cheek, rubbing his face against him maybe a little more than is strictly necessary. He pointedly ignores the look on Alec’s face.

“I’ll try and stay within earshot,” he says, keeping his hand on Stiles’s shoulder.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to. Go!”

Scott jogs off, and he can hear Alec say, “You two are like an old married couple,” and Stiles’s laughter before he’s out of earshot.

Scott lets the change come over him slowly, feeling hair prickle up on his face and his eyes burn red. He notices a few of the kids on the run pointing and whispering, and he lets himself shift further. His fangs drop and his claws extend. Everyone else is in Beta form too as they speed along through the trees. It’s steeper than Beacon Hills and Scott has to push himself a bit more than normal. He can see Terrence off to one side in his Alpha form, and he has to laugh when he realizes it’s the first time he’s seen a full Alpha who wasn’t trying to kill him. The Alpha is notably bigger than his human frame, more covered in fur, and loping along on all fours.

Scott can do that shift too - the one he thinks of as the full werewolf shift - but it’s less comfortable, and it reminds him too much of Peter. He thinks back to the hours spent in the woods with his Pack, helping Malia learn control, and learning his own powers. He remembers Stiles cheering when he first shifted into a full wolf, and the feel of his fingers in the ruff around his neck. With a howl, Scott throws himself forward into the change.

The world feels different in this form, more immediate, more real. They’ve reached the top of the lower ridge, and Scott can see for miles. The wind carries so many scents, from the crisp scent of pine, to the faint metallic scent of the rocks, to a herd of mule deer down the far side of the mountain, to the cooking and construction scents from the human settlement below. He can even smell Stiles and a scent he assumes is Alec hiking around the lake down the slope. He can hear the Pack around him, their breathing and laughter, the crunch of hiking boots, and the skittering of pebbles as they’re dislodged by bare feet.

Patrick is one of those who has forgone shoes. He comes up beside Scott, grinning wide. “You look so badass, dude.”

Scott literally barks a laugh.

“Come on. Race you to the top!”

Patrick takes off running before Scott can process what he’s said. He’s half a mile ahead, when Scott takes off, bounding across rocks and over downed trees. He howls when he passes Patrick, and he can hear the answering calls from behind him.

Scott comes back from the run happy and exhausted and more at ease with the other members of the Packs. He’s still riding the high of being a wolf, and all he really wants to do is curl up with Stiles. That feeling of happiness quickly drains away when he sees Stiles sitting - alone - on one of the large rocks by the top of the lift.

“You okay?” he asks, crossing immediately to Stiles’s side.

The other wolves hang back a little bit, but Stiles still looks uncomfortable, and he shrugs off Scott’s hand as they walk to the ski lift. Terrence waves everyone down the mountain, and he and Patrick nod at Scott before they head after them.

When they’re no longer visible, Scott repeats the question.

“I’m fine,” Stiles says, locking the lift bar down over them.

“How was your hike with Alec?” Scott asks as the ski lift slowly clunks down the slope.

“Fine. If you like hanging out with show-off werewolves, which I clearly do.” Stiles sighs and waves a hand like he’s dispersing smoke. “Whatever. He’s fine, just got bored babysitting the human. I get it.”

Scott winces. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you-”

“Dude. I can take care of myself. I am - surprisingly enough - able to handle it.”

Scott wants to sling an arm around his shoulders, but Scott’s been questioning their every interaction this weekend. He settles for bumping into Stiles and smiling when he looks over.

“I know you can, Stiles. You’ve been better at handling things than me sometimes. Just let me know if you need me to step in, okay? These Packs are really into hierarchy they’ll listen to me.”

Stiles gives him a crooked grin. “True Alpha Scott McCall, King of the Werewolves.”

Scott laughs, and a little of the tension between them eases. “I don’t know about that. I am clearly not very good at the sociopolitical aspect of lycanthrophy.”

They’re approaching the end of the lift.

“Are we good?” Scott asks, suddenly nervous.

“Of course we’re good,” Stiles says. “We’re always good.”

His gaze flicks away for a second, and then he’s leaning into Scott’s space and kissing him soundly. Scott is doing his best to forget everything about these kisses. It’ll be easier to move on if he can forget the feel of Stiles’s lips, moving incessantly against his own, and the warmth of his hands through his t-shirt, and the heat that builds low in his belly. Stiles pulls away before Scott’s thoughts can move too far in that direction.

They’ve reached the bottom of the lift and Alec and some of the others are waiting for them as they hop off. A show, Scott reminds himself, that’s all this is. And that thought - that Stiles is just doing all this because he has to, because Scott asked him to - sends a spike of resentment through him.

The worst thing about jealousy, Scott thinks, is that it’s completely irrational. He knows that he and Stiles are always going to have each other. He knows that Stiles has other friends, with inside jokes and references that Scott doesn’t get. He knows that this is totally okay and normal, but that still doesn’t stop the hot clench in his gut when Stiles laughs along at Alec’s joke about the ground squirrels that are roaming all over the mountains. It’s somewhat assuaged by the fact that Stiles takes his hand as they head back to the resort, but even that is a hollow comfort.

The groomsmen take a left towards their house, and Alec waves goodbye. “See you tonight, gentlemen. And Stiles, I hope we’ll see more of each other.”

He chuckles and jogs off. Scott looks quizzically at Stiles, who waves dismissively.

“We don’t have to go for long tonight,” he offers. “We can just eat and leave.”

“Don’t be silly,” Stiles insists. “It’s just a rehearsal dinner; I think I can survive that.”

The lights in the resort’s restaurant are low, and candles flicker amid the forget-me-not arrangements. There’s a low-key feel to the gathering. Scott has noticed that when they’re indoors, werewolves tend to keep their voices down, so even though everyone is cheerful and in good spirits, the room is quiet.

Scott is chatting with two of the bridesmaids and trying to keep an eye on Stiles at the same time. He’s standing by the patio door, chatting with the bride’s father about werewolf history. Stiles keeps swearing he’s fine, but Scott is convinced that the were-beer is hitting him harder than he wants to admit. But considering he hasn’t started asking about werewolf mating practices, he’s probably doing alright. Although Alec has taken over the conversation, so maybe that mating discussion is coming soon, he thinks bitterly.

Stiles has been cagey about Alec all afternoon. Scott’s pretty sure Alec did _something_ wrong, he just can’t get Stiles to tell him what. So Scott isn’t eavesdropping. He isn’t. He’s just looking out for his fake boyfriend and best friend. The only thing that’s a bit questionable about it is that he’s listening in from across a room and through a wall. He’s glad he’s doing it though when he hears, “Screw you. Actually, no, I never would, so go screw yourself.”

It’s whispered, but Scott hears it all too clearly. He sees red - possibly literally. Struggling to keep calm, he excuses himself and heads directly for the patio. He hears Alec say, “Maybe that’s why he’s indulged you for so long,” and sees Stiles reach up to shove him away, but doesn’t take time to process before he’s pushing between the two of them, Stiles at his back so he can scowl at Alec. The other werewolf is significantly taller than him, but Scott keeps his head down; exposing his throat by looking up would be seen as concession.

“Everything okay, gentlemen?” Scott asks, his tone icy.

“Peachy keen,” Alec sneers, flashing his teeth.

Scott’s expression doesn’t waver. “Stiles?” he asks, over his shoulder.

“I’m fine, Scott. It’s not a big deal-”

Stiles is trying to get out from behind Scott, but Scott won’t let him. He flings an arm out, ignoring Stiles’s protests.

“I think you need to leave,” Scott growls.

“You leave. You shouldn’t even have been invited,” Alec spits, looming over him. “Just because you’re a True Alpha or whatever bullshit, doesn’t mean you get to wander around like you own the place.”

“No,” Scott allows, “But it does mean I outrank you, _Beta_.”

His eyes burn red, and dimly he can hear Stiles cursing at them to calm down. Scott’s focus has narrowed to Alec. If they’re going to come to blows, Scott is going to be ready. He isn’t thinking about the fact that they’re out of sight of the rest of the party, but not out of earshot until Susannah and Joan Crawford appear behind Alec.

The two women aren’t all that similar looking, though they share a certain bearing, one that Scott recognizes. Scott knows he should be nervous about the fact that these Alphas outrank _him_ , but he’s not thinking rationally at the moment.

“Is there a problem?” asks the mother of the bride, Alec’s Alpha.

“No,” protests Stiles, at the same moment Scott snarls, “Yes.”

“No! We’re fine. _I’m_ fine. Scott, listen to me.”

Stiles puts his hand on Scott’s arm and turns him so they’re looking into each others eyes. Scott goes reluctantly, unwilling to let Alec out of his sight.

“I’m fine,” he repeats. “It’s not a big deal. Calm down.”

Scott can feel his heartbeat start to slow, and his breathing evens out. He can still feel Alec glaring at him, but his attention is all on Stiles for the moment.

“Alec,” says Susannah softly.

The Beta steps back, still glowering at Scott, and suddenly Scott realizes that he’s basically challenging two fully grown Alphas.

“I apologize for any disturbance,” he says, voice deferential but not dropping his gaze.

He swears Joan smiles, but Susannah looks supremely unamused. “Now is not the appropriate time for explanations. I take it the issue is resolved.”

She’s using her Alpha voice; Scott can feel it somewhere deeper than his bones, even though it no longer has any effect on him.

“Yes ma’am,” Alec nods, before slinking away with a final glare at Scott and Stiles.

Susannah turns to them. “I suggest it might be wise for you two to say your goodnights.”

It’s carefully phrased so as not to be an order, but it would be extremely stupid to refuse. Scott puts his hand at the small of Stiles’s back and guides him through the crowd. They say goodnight to Patrick and, since he’s really the only one they know, leave the party. Scott keeps his hand on Stiles the whole time, even leaving it in place to give Patrick a one-armed hug.

When the elevator doors close in front of them, Stiles shrugs it off and says, “You can quit being so clingy now.”

“I’m not; I was- I just- sorry,” Scott settles on.

Stiles grumbles noncommitantly.

Scott bristles. He was just trying to help. He doesn’t know why Stiles is acting so weird, but now is not the time to call him on it. He swipes them into their room and Stiles pushes past him, heading straight for the bathroom.

And that’s the last straw. Scott’s arm moves at just above human speed and catches Stiles’s elbow.

“Stiles. Talk to me.”

“Only if you return the favor,” Stiles shoots back, pulling away.

How did this get fucked up so quickly?

“What?”

“I don’t get why you’re being so possessive,” Stiles snaps, hands flying wildly. “He wasn’t hurting me, he was just being a dick, and you know I can handle myself.”

Scott frowns. “Of course I know that, Stiles. It’s weird being around all these strange werewolves and other Alphas. Maybe I overreacted-”

Stiles scoffs.

Scott continues on, “But I was trying to do the right thing.”

“The right thing for who?”

Scott freezes. “Stiles, I-” but he doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. He’s been an asshole, and he knows it, but he can’t help feeling protective of people, Stiles especially. “You know how protective I get, Stiles, and I’m sorry I’ve upset you, but my instincts to defend my partn- my Pack are a little out of control right now.”

“Why, Scott?” Stiles demands before turning away. “It’s not like I’m actually your boyfriend or anything.”

It’s spoken in an undertone, but the words echo in Scott’s brain as clearly as if Stiles shouted them.

“I know,” Scott says, equally quietly. “Of course I know. And I don’t want- I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I’m going to bed.”

“Stiles, wait-”

“Why? You clearly don’t want to talk about this, so let’s just go to bed, and get this weekend over with. Okay?”

Without waiting for an answer, he slams into the bathroom.

Still stunned, Scott starts gathering up blankets and pillows so he can sleep on the sofa. He doesn’t know what to do, how to fix things with Stiles. He should have known this weekend would end terribly. Scott changes into pajamas in a daze, and flops onto the couch, head in his hands.

“What are you doing?” Stiles asks, coming out of the bathroom and staring at Scott’s makeshift bed.

“Um… I didn’t think you’d want…”

“Come sleep in the bed, idiot.”

Scott climbs cautiously under the covers, not sure if he’s allowed to smile at Stiles’s grumbling about stupid, self-sacrificing werewolves. They curl up with their backs to each other, and Scot is keenly aware of all the space between them on the huge bed.

It’s almost time to head down to the wedding ceremony, and all the Packs are trying to squeeze in just a few more photos with the wedding party. Scott and Stiles are hovering awkwardly on the periphery; Patrick and Lindsay had taken a few pictures with them earlier, but they hadn’t wanted to go down to the ceremony alone. They’ve barely spoken since the fight last night, and Scott is miserable as he always is when Stiles gives him the silent treatment. Though this time he’s having trouble figuring out how to fix things.

People are starting to trickle down the hill, so Scott and Stiles get their suit jackets and head towards the Lodge. They find themselves in a lull between groups of people, walking alone through the quiet woods. They’re not really alone - Scott can hear other people in front of and behind them - but they’re alone enough.

“It’s just one more night,” he says softly. “We just have to keep the act up one more night.”

Stiles laughs harshly. “That’s just it though,” he whispers back. “You’ve been acting for way longer than this weekend. Since even before you asked me to come with you.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like you’re pretending to be my friend,” Stiles says. “It’s been going on for months now, like you’re just going through the motions, and I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Scott reaches for Stiles, and then hesitates, not sure if he’s welcome. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Stiles. I promise.”

“Then what is it, Scott? And don’t tell me ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’ Give me a fucking reason.”

And this is it. Scott can’t lie to Stiles, not about this, not anymore. He can see the Lodge parking lot ahead; he’s running out of time.

“I love you,” he says, in as loud a whisper as he dares. “I haven’t been acting like your friend because I want to be your boyfriend. For real,” he adds.

Stiles freezes, and turns to stare at Scott. “I-” he starts.

“Scott! Stiles! There you are!”

It’s Joan Crawford.

“You boys can sit with me,” she says, linking her arm with Stiles’s. “Need to make sure you behave.”

Scott trails after them in a daze. Joan must have heard him, but she makes no reference to it. Neither does Stiles. They sit down in the third row of chairs, right in front of a group of Lindsay’s cousins.

“All of us want it known that we don’t hold you in any way responsible for last night’s unpleasantness,” she says in a low voice contrasted by her cheery wave at someone across the aisle.

They’re making nice, Scott realizes. Because even though they have more authority than him, his True Alpha status confers quite a bit of power.

“Alec can be a bit, obstinate, but it’s all behind us, right?”

“Right, yes,” he says.

“Excellent! Ah, good, it’s starting.”

The ceremony is lovely. It’s basically like the human weddings Scott has been to, but there are a few things werewolves do differently. For one, they do a portion of the ceremony half-shifted. The language is also modified; the officiant speaks about the cycles of the moon and how life changes, goes through periods of fullness and waning, but always continues onwards.

“The rings you now exchange are representative of both that cycle and of the moon itself. May they be a reminder that even during the darkest nights, the light will return.”

Scott glances over at Stiles, tears prickling in his eyes. Stiles smiles at him, and it’s hopeful Scott thinks. He’s messed things up, he knows, but maybe they aren’t totally fucked. Stiles takes his hand and squeezes, before turning his attention back to the ceremony.

‘It’s just part of the act. It’s just part of the act,’ Scott keeps repeating to himself, but his heart is leaping in his chest.

The reception site is a gorgeous two-story room, with picture windows on three walls offering panoramic views of the mountains and valley. Scott and Stiles sign the guest book and find seats with some of the younger members of the Edwards Pack. The youngest is fiddling with the centerpiece while the older ones rave about the winery that has supplied all the alcohol for the weekend. Scott and Stiles join that conversation which carries them through the buffet line and into dinner.

Scott is twitchy. Stiles is acting perfectly normally, or at least, as normal as they’ve been all weekend as fake boyfriends, and Scott has no idea what he’s thinking. Stiles is probably waiting until after the wedding to tell him they should just be friends, because if he wanted this, he would just go for it, right? It’s the perfect opportunity, since everyone thinks they’re dating anyway, but Stiles is keeping Scott at a slight distance. Scott tries not to let his disappointment show, laughing along as Stiles recounts one of their misadventures from middle school.

When everyone has pretty much finished eating, the DJ announces the Maid of Honor and the Best Man to give their speeches. The Best Man presents the couple with a stolen Canadian flag, and Stiles leans over and whispers, “I want one,” before pressing a kiss to Scott’s cheek.

Scott is debating back and forth over whether that’s a good sign or not when the DJ announces his name.

Scott has gotten the impression that part of why he’s here is in a sort of fairy godmother capacity, to bless the marriage. He’s been thinking about what to say in case he’s called upon to make a speech. This is apparently that moment. The notes are in his suit jacket pocket, but he leaves them there as he goes to stand by Patrick and Lindsay. He’s not entirely sure what he’s going to say, but he looks at Stiles and just knows.

“My mom gave me a piece of advice when I had my first girlfriend. She said, ‘women love words,’ and that if I loved someone, I should tell them so as often as possible and in many different ways.” He glances at Stiles, who cracks a smile.

“If you truly mean it, you can never tell someone that you love them too soon or too many times. The only time I’ve regretted those words is when I haven’t said them.” His eyes haven’t left Stiles’s. “It’s something we all need to hear. So, Patrick and Lindsay, that’s my advice to you: say ‘I love you,’ again and again and again. Congratulations!”

Everyone toasts and there’s a polite round of applause. Scott makes his way back to Stiles’s side. He hesitates for a split second, but Stiles reaches up and pulls him down into a kiss.

It’s nice. It feels more real than some of their previous ones, but there is an edge, a feeling that Stiles is still just playing the dutiful boyfriend. Scott’s pretty sure he’s not quite forgiven yet, but he allows himself to be hopeful. They’ll be okay, and maybe - maybe - be better than okay.

They watch the cake-cutting, and the first dance, and Stiles gets them both out on the dancefloor once the music starts up. They aren’t supposed to qualify to catch the garter, so when the DJ announces that that’s up next, Scott stands up and goes outside for some air. Stiles follows after him. They walk a little ways from the Lodge, enjoying the starlight and the half-moon in silence. They’re both more than a little drunk, and Scott doesn’t want to say something he’ll regret.

“That was a good wedding,” Stiles says eventually.

“Yeah,” Scott agrees.

The path isn’t well lit, and Stiles almost faceplants after tripping on a rock. Scott offers his arm, not expecting Stiles to take it, but is pleasantly surprised when he does.

“Have you thought about getting married?” Stiles asks, almost accusatory.

“Yeah,” says Scott. “Don’t most people?”

“No. I mean, really thought about it. Have you ever been serious enough to start looking at rings or something?”

Scott hesitates before he answers. “Once. Although uh…” he chuckles, “I did buy a ring another time.”

“What?” Stiles stiffens and his eyes narrow at Scott to see if he’s kidding.

“Yeah. We were eight though, so I don’t know if it counted.”

Stiles’s eyes snap wide open. “I was your only friend when we were eight.”

Scott splutters. “I don’t know if that’s entirely accurate- Well, okay, maybe.”

“You never gave me a ring,” Stiles insists, definitely accusatory now.

“I brought it to school on the day you declared your undying and eternal love for Lydia,” Scott says wryly. “So I threw it out at lunchtime.”

“Oh.”

The night air is full of insect noises and the hush of their thinking.

“You really do love me, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I have for years, I think.”

Stiles smiles at him, and Scott has never been so happy that he can see in the dark, because it’s Stiles’s real smile; the one he doles out like he has a limited number of them. Scott wants to kiss him.

The moment stretches, and Scott has just psyched himself into going for it, when the wedding planner interrupts them. “Excuse me, sir? The bride would like a dance with you.”

Scott looks at Stiles who smiles wryly and waves him away. “Go on. Go do your Alpha thing. I’ll follow you.”

Scott leans in and kisses his cheek. “You always do.”

Lindsay looks exhausted, but she’s glowing. She kicked off her heels a few hours ago, and Scott is just realizing that she’s shorter than him. She throws her arms around his neck and hugs him tight.

“Thank you so much for coming,” she says softly into his ear.

His arms come up around her waist automatically. “Thank you for having us. Congratulations.”

The music starts, and they twirl around the floor. They’re alone for a while, and Scott is acutely aware of everyone’s eyes on them, but then other partners join them, and soon the dancefloor is full again.

When the focus is off them, Lindsay points at where Alec is dancing close with another groomsman, then leans in again and says, “Sorry my cousin’s kind of an asshole.”

Scott laughs. “It’s okay. It actually helped us work through some things, surprisingly enough.”

“Good,” Lindsay smiles. “You and Stiles are a cute couple; you’re so in tune with each other. I hope Patrick and I are that close someday.”

Scott blinks in surprise. “Oh. Really?”

She nods. “Yeah. You’re both clearly so in love with each other. He looks at you like you hung the moon.”

Scott isn’t so sure about that, but he glances around the room, looking for Stiles. He finds him at their table, and for a split second he catches what she’s talking about. He can feel his heartbeat pick up and hope swells in his chest. The moment is infinitesimally brief, but Scott knows it will be frozen in his memory forever.

Stiles gets up and heads across the floor to them.

“Can I cut in?”

“Of course,” Lindsay says, stepping to the side so Stiles can take Scott’s hands.

They dance in silence for a while, close enough that their limbs are getting tangled, but moving slow enough that it doesn’t really matter. Scott is the most content he’s been all weekend.

“Do you remember the first time we went to Jungle? Sophomore year with the kanima? And that guy bought you a drink?”  
Scott nods.

“The thing I remember most about that night is being absolutely livid at that guy for daring to buy you a drink. He’d just seen you for a few seconds across a crowded room, he didn’t know you, how could he possibly appreciate what an amazing person you are? I mean, you know I’ve always been ridiculously co-dependent, but that was the moment I knew I loved you in a romantic way.”

“You never said anything.”

“There were always other things going on, and I thought you only liked girls until recently. I tried to tell you a few times, but it never worked out and we had such a good thing anyway,” he shrugs, and smiles ruefully. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

Scott laughs. “Definitely.”

The song is ending and they’ve kind of stopped dancing anyways, more just swaying together. Scott leans in cautiously, his whole body a question. A smile spreads across Stiles’s face, and he closes the gap.

And this, this is what Scott has been hoping for. Stiles’s lips are so warm against his own, and he feels for the first time that this is real, that this is right.

If most of the weekend has been them pretending to like each other more, the last few hours have been the exact opposite. Scott wants nothing more than to run off with Stiles and be alone, but they’re not the newlyweds here. They see Patrick and Lindsay off, and then duck out of the reception too.

Scott can’t get to their room fast enough, but once the door is closed he hesitates. “We don’t have to do anything tonight,” he says, offering Stiles another out.

“You’re not going to turn into a shrinking violet on me now, are you, Scotty?” Stiles asks, voice low as he steps into Scott’s space.

Scott smirks, relieved. “We did just get together a few hours ago. Aren’t we moving a little fast?”

Stiles scoffs. “Please. We’ve been an item since preschool. All that’s new is the kissing.”

“I like the kissing,” Scott grins, leaning in.

Stiles pulls Scott in the last few inches by his tie. “Me too,” he whispers, pressing their lips together.

Scott wakes up slowly, warm and content. He’s lying on his stomach, but his whole body is curled towards Stiles’s side of the bed - which is empty. He wakes up a little bit more, listening for a clue as to his whereabouts. There’s water running nearby, then it stops, and a door opens. Reassured, Scott lets his eyes drift closed again, but he rolls over when Stiles slides back into bed.

“Good morning,” he murmurs.

“Good morning.” Stiles’s voice is soft and slightly hesitant. He smells nervous.

Scott opens his eyes. Stiles is curled tight on his side of the bed, carefully not touching Scott. He’s pulled a shirt back on, and Scott silently mourns the lack of skin. Scott reaches out and skims a hand down Stiles’s side.

“Good morning,” he repeats, smiling warmly at Stiles.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

He unclenches, and Scott pulls him into his arms as Stiles slings a leg over his thigh. Scott’s not sure which of them goes in for the kiss first, but it doesn’t really matter since they both end up in the same place.

“So not a really great dream, then?” Stiles asks, mouth quirking up.

Scott kisses the corner of his mouth, and then moves his lips to the moles under Stiles’s ear. Stiles gasps and tugs Scott’s arm more firmly around him. Their hips are moving together, and Stiles is keeping Scott close with a hand between his shoulder blades.

“We should get up,” Scott says a bit regretfully between kisses. “There’s that farewell brunch.”

Stiles groans. “I am so tempted to say, ‘fuck it,’ and stay in bed with you all day, but _brunch_.”

Scott laughs, and kisses Stiles again before extricating himself from his grasp. “Come on. We’ve got plenty of time for makeouts, but free brunch is a rare thing.”

“Point.”

Stiles rolls over, scratching below his belly button, and Scott groans. He leans over the bed and presses a kiss to the line of hair on Stiles’s stomach. Stiles’s hand shoots out and tangles in Scott’s hair.

“What time is that brunch again?”

 

 

Art Masterpost: [here](http://daunt.tumblr.com/post/92161266780/only-fools-rush-in-by-rosewindow-pros-to)

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from “Can’t Help Falling In Love With You” cover by the Fleet Foxes (which is coincidentally what Scott and Stiles use as their first dance song).
> 
> I'm on tumblr also as 'rosewindow.'


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